A Sticky Situation
by WhoMuse
Summary: Ianto gives Jack one, simple order, which Jack blithely chooses to ignore. Ianto teaches Jack a lesson that even the willful Captain won't soon forget. Characters/Pairings: Jack/Ianto, Owen, Tosh, Gwen. Rated M for Owen's potty mouth and Janto naughtiness. A/N: This is a sequel to "The Screwdriver", also found on this site. It's not necessary to have read that one to get this.
1. Part One

Mucking out the cells was one of Ianto's least-favorite tasks, but at the moment it suited him. The mental image of how he had left Jack in his office, all het-up and under orders not to touch his screwdriver (which was not a euphemism though it sounded like one) kept intruding on his thoughts no matter how hard he tried to focus on other things. He was also so het-up himself that the prospect of sitting at his desk was unappealing. He needed a physical outlet.

He had entertained the thought of going right back up to the office and having his way with Jack, but then discarded it. Though he was fairly certain that Jack, who had to be suffering more than he was, wouldn't mind, it was the principle of the thing. He had started this game, and he would see it through. And part of that was giving the Captain a significant amount of time to stew in his own juices, as it were.

So Ianto changed into an old pair of jeans and an oversized t-shirt proclaiming that it, or he, was the "Property of The Cardiff Blues" that his brother-in-law had given him for Christmas, and headed down to the lower level where the cells were.

Two new Weevils, recently arrived, shared the cell next to Janet. Unlike most Weevils, which were so uniform in appearance they were indistinguishable from one another (except perhaps to another Weevil) these two were were noticeably shorter in stature. Owen had been curious as to whether they were adolescents or perhaps a different species of Weevil altogether, so the Team had kept them rather than employ their customary trap-and-release-elsewhere strategy.

Apart from the obvious difference in size, Ianto hadn't noticed any characteristics that set the new guests apart. Until now.

"Christ, you stink," Owen proclaimed when Ianto emerged from the depths onto the main floor of the Hub forty-five minutes later. "And what the hell is that all over your shirt?"

Ianto looked down and pulled a face. "Weevil dung," he said, with resignation. "A new behavioral quirk that I've discovered. Apparently, the little ones fling it about when they're distressed."

Owen fanned his hand in front of his face. "Well, you shouldn't be distressing them, then, should you? You've been around Weevils enough to know that. What did you do, anyway?"

"Sedated them and attempted to clear out their cell. Apparently they really don't like their crap-and I mean that literally-being disturbed."

Owen laughed. "That'll teach you to move them out of sight first, won't it?"

"You're right, Owen. I should have known better. You'd think I'd have learned after the tantrum _you _pitched the last time I tided up your desk. It was much worse."

"Bloody hell, we're not on that again, are we?" Owen gave an exasperated sigh.

"Yes, we are, and you still owe me for that dry-cleaning bill. Don't pretend you haven't seen it. I've left one on your desk every day for a fortnight."

"I'm not giving you a fucking red cent. You provoked me!"

"I believe that's what's referred to as "blaming the victim," Owen. But have it your way. I'll put it on your expense report. Perhaps you can convince Jack that assaulting a co-worker with a mug of hot coffee is a justifiable use of company resources."

"I already told you, I was throwing it at the WALL, not you."

"The wall that I just happened to be standing in front of," Ianto pointed out. "I was picking ceramic shards out of my hair all day, you know. It's a wonder I wasn't burnt."

"Keep bitching and I'll do it again," Owen growled.

"The walls are trembling in fear."

"Get the hell out of here!" Owen said, lunging at Ianto.

Ianto dodged, then stopped just out of reach. "Really, I don't know why I bother. I'd get better results talking to the walls. They're more intelligent and have infinitely better social skills." He turned and ambled away.

"Yeah? Well, well... you need a goddamned shower!" Owen called at Ianto's retreating back.

Ianto was already headed to the wardrobe where he kept his spare clothes and didn't bother to reply.

Tosh intercepted Ianto just before he slipped into the locker room, wrinkling her nose but otherwise refraining from mentioning his condition.

"Ianto, Jack's conference call with U.N.I.T..." she began, checking her watch and looking as apprehensive as she always did when it came to their dealings with that governmental agency.

"... Has been postponed," Ianto finished, correctly guessing what she was getting at.

Tosh smiled. "That's good! I mean... he's been a little distracted today, hasn't he? I wasn't sure he'd be up for it." She glanced significantly in the direction of Jack's office.

Ianto wondered if she was going to inquire as to why Jack had been so uncharacteristically quiet the last hour, but she merely asked, "Does _he _know that it's been postponed?"

"Not yet," Ianto replied, a mischievous smile playing about his lips.

Tosh shook her head. "You're terrible." Few things made the Captain more uncomfortable than having to play nice with the brass of U.N.I.T., unless it was _worrying about _an impending meeting where he would have to play nice with the brass of U.N.I.T.

"I know."

They smiled at each other, and went their separate ways.

* * *

An hour and a half after he had left Jack alone in his office. a freshly-showered, shaved, and be-suited Ianto pushed open the door with his foot, his hands being occupied with a tray.

"Good news, Jack," Ianto said. "Your call's been postponed, something about Major General Chatham needing his appendix out. I've brought you some coffee and your favorite..."

Ianto's words trailed off when he caught sight of the Captain. Jack was leaning back in his chair with both feet propped on his desk and the six-in-one screwdriver clutched in his right hand.

"...Biscuits." Ianto finished, scarcely able to believe what he was seeing.

Jack glanced up. "Hey, Ianto. What kind of biscuits? I know I said I like the custard cremes but they've been a bit off lately."

"Jammie Dodgers," replied Ianto, eying Jack's hands. "Your _new _favorite. I remembered."

"Ah, good man," Jack said, sliding a different tip onto the screwdriver like it was the most normal thing in the world. Like Ianto hadn't specifically ordered him NOT to touch the screwdriver until granted permission.

Ianto deposited the tea tray on a little side table with great care and turned to face Jack. "I remembered," he repeated. "But you seem to have forgotten something."

"Have I?" Jack asked.

Ianto glanced at the screwdriver and raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, that," Jack said. "I didn't think you'd mind. It needed a different tip if I'm going swap out the chandelier in the boardroom and I didn't want to waste any more time."

"You didn't want to waste any more time."

"Yes! That's good, isn't it? You're always after us to be more efficient. I thought you'd be pleased." Jack grinned.

"You. Thought. I'd. Be. Pleased," Ianto echoed. Jack's grin dimmed several hundred watts.

"What? I wasn't bothering anybody. That's what you wanted, isn't it?"

Ianto scowled and closed the distance between them until he was in front of the desk, looming over it. Jack resisted the urge to move his chair back a few feet. Ianto gave such good glower it was alarming.

"What I wanted, Jack, was for you to do as I said. Not what I meant, or what you thought I meant, or what you hoped I meant, but what I _said_."

Jack swallowed and put on his best innocuous expression. "Yes, well, I just thought... say, is that new cologne you're wearing?"

"Don't try to change the subject, Jack."

Jack sniffed the air. "It is, isn't it? It's crisp and sweet, in a masculine way, of course. Like a... a spiced apple in autumn. It suits you."

Ianto hoped he wasn't blushing. Dammit, it WAS new cologne, and yes, he'd hoped that Jack would notice it. But this wasn't the scenario he'd envisioned, exactly, when he'd bought it.

"Flattery won't get you out of this."

"It's not flattery if it's true," Jack insisted. Ianto rolled his eyes and held out his hand.

"Give it to me."

"If you insist." With a nonchalant shrug, Jack placed the screwdriver in Ianto's open palm, allowing his fingertips to brush Ianto's wrist as he did so.

Their gazes met over the yellow plastic handle. Jack's eyes were bright with mischief and just a hint of a challenge. Ianto's were far more inscrutable-greyish blue and blank as slate.

"Good," Ianto said. He tucked the screwdriver into his breast pocket, next to his pocket square, then put his hands on his hips. "I have to say, I'm disappointed in you, Jack. I asked you to do one thing, one simple thing in an hour and a half, and you didn't do it."

"I..."

Ianto held up his hand. "Don't bother. I don't want to hear it. No excuses. Nor an apology, if that's what you intended." His eyes raked over Jack, who still had his feet propped inscouciantly on the desk. "Though you don't look very sorry."

Ianto had Jack there. He didn't feel very sorry, a fact he emphasized by shrugging and flashing a blithe smile. Ianto regarded him for a long moment.

"You will be, though."

With that, he turned around, exited Jack's office, and closed the door firmly behind him.

Jack stared after him in surprise, the smile slipping a little.

* * *

Ianto's footsteps clattered on the gangway as he made his way to the galley kitchen. Once there, he yanked open his odds-and-ends drawer, the same one where Jack had found the screwdriver that had started this whole mess, rummaged until he found what he needed, and then headed back the other way.

"Ianto luv," called Gwen as he neared her area. "Could you get us a refill?"

"Sorry, busy. There's some left in the pot though. Help yourself."

Gwen blinked, then turned to peer at him as he passed by. Owen, who had been perched on the side of Gwen's desk chatting, rose and followed. "Ianto, I was thinking, maybe I was a bit hasty earlier. How much do I owe you again for that dry-cleaning?"

Ianto didn't know if Owen had had an unprecedented change of heart or was trying to bait him into further argument, and he couldn't care less.

"I'll email it to you," he called, not looking back. "Can't talk now. Urgent business with Jack."

Gwen and Owen exchanged a look. Ianto proceeded on his way until he was right outside Jack's office door, then turned around. That three faces were staring at him was not exactly a surprise, but he felt a twinge of annoyance nonetheless. Sometimes having a large, cubicle-free underground base for a workplace was a nuisance. Torchwood Cardiff held many of the Universe's secrets, but for its employees, keeping any of a personal nature was difficult.

Well, he could try. "We are not to be disturbed unless it's a dire emergency. Understand?"

"Everything alright, Ianto?" Gwen inquried.

"Everything's fine. Or it will be, as long as we're not disturbed." She and Owen exchanged another look; the former clearly annoyed at not knowing what was going on, the latter twirling a finger around his temple to indicate what he thought about the state of Ianto's sanity.

It was Tosh who finally spoke. "Sure, Ianto. Whatever you say."

Ianto nodded, then opened Jack's door and disappeared inside.

After the door closed they all started talking at once.

"That was so sweet of you to offer to pay that bill, Owen," Tosh said, beaming.

"Bastard's off his nut," muttered Owen.

"What do you think they're doing?" asked Gwen.

"I don't know, and I don't want to know," said Owen, happy to change the subject from the cleaning bill.

"You don't think they're..." Gwen paused dramatically.

"Shagging?" Owen shrugged. "Probably."

Gwen looked shocked. "In Jack's office? Ianto wouldn't. He's too proper."

"'Course he would. He's a guy, inn'e? What guy is going to be stopped by something stupid like that?"

"Owen! Does that mean that you've... shagged at work?"

"I've been here a long time, Gwen," Owen said with a smirk. "'Course it's easier when you have an office door to close like Jack does but..."

"I've heard enough," Tosh said, hurrying away.

"Oh, Owen, you have not," Gwen said, her cheeks pink, turning quickly back to her monitor.

"If these walls could talk, Gwen." Owen leered in her direction, then headed to the kitchen to get the last of the coffee before anyone else did.

* * *

Jack wasn't stupid. He knew he was playing with fire; what he didn't know was just how hot Ianto's fire would burn, once lit. If he threw some more kindling onto it, would he would wind up being merely singed, or scorched beyond all recognition? Ianto had already threatened to withhold oral sex, and Jack knew that he had the self-discipline to make good on it, even though he'd be suffering along with Jack. Why Jack felt compelled to push him farther, even he wasn't sure. Boredom, maybe, or perhaps the fact that Ianto wearing that stern, unreadable expression and giving him orders was _really hot._

Jack stared at his closed door for a long moment, then roused himself to action. He had no idea what lay in store for him, but whatever it was, surely it would be better to deal with on a full stomach. The Thai food he had enjoyed for lunch hadn't stuck with him long and the scent of hot, sweet coffee wafting through the office put him in the mind for dessert. Jack swung his feet off the desk and headed over to the side table to see what Ianto had brought him.

He had just resettled himself at his desk, feet in their former place next to his computer monitor, when the door banged open. Jack startled, nearly spilling the coffee that was half-way to his mouth.

_'Woah, easy there_,' he thought, carefully setting his cup on the desk. Having spent over an hour thinking of little but Ianto, Jack was already on edge and over-sensitized in certain areas. The last thing he needed was hot coffee in his lap.

As Jack positioned his favorite Cornishware mug well away from the edge of his desk, he watched Ianto approach out of the corner of his eye; scanning for any sign of Ianto's intentions. Ianto was carrying a small plastic bag and the quirk of his lips suggested that he was slightly amused, but Jack could have been mistaken about the last part. He gave a mental shrug, selected a biscuit and shoved it in his mouth.

Ianto stopped beside the side of the desk where Jack's feet rested. Jack gazed at his plate, feigning disinterest, and chewed. Suddenly Ianto reached out and with a surprisingly deft move, shoved Jack's feet off the desk. His boots hit the floor and Jack looked up in surprise, his mouth full of crumbs.

"Wha..." he began, then had to stop and swallow lest he choke. He really needed something to wash down the biscuit, but before he could move, Ianto was reaching down and tugging at his Bluetooth earpiece. Jack felt it slide out of his ear and watched it clatter to the desk.

"We won't be needing that," Ianto said.

"We won't?" Jack asked, feeling wrong-footed and like things were moving a little too fast. Neither feeling was one he was accustomed to.

"No. It would only be a distraction. As would this." Ianto plucked Jack's mobile phone from his pocket, switched it off, and set it on the desk next to the earpiece.

"But what if something..."

"Comes up?" Ianto tapped his own earpiece, still in place on his head. "I'll handle it. Like I usually do."

Jack smiled, thinking a little flattery wouldn't be out of place here. "Yes, you usually do, don't you?"

"Always. Now sit back. You're going to be here for awhile."

Jack obeyed with a cocky grin, sliding back until he was resting against the back of the chair, and splaying his legs comfortably. Ianto moved forward and crouched between Jack's legs, placing a hand on his left knee. Jack was so keyed up that his leg bounced at the touch.

Ianto noticed and a small smile crossed his lips. "We're going to work on patience, Jack." He tilted his head and regarded Jack carefully, making sure that Jack was paying attention.

Jack felt a twinge of frustration in his stomach. With his whole body screaming, "now, now _now_," patience was not a virtue he wanted to get reacquainted with at the present moment.

"That's never been one of my strong suits, Ianto. How about we work on something that I AM good at?" Jack punctuated this with a toothy grin and a lewd shift of his hips forward. Ianto gripped Jack's knee so tight that it hurt.

"Stop it. Don't move."

Jack shook his head in disbelief.

"But..."

"Perhaps you didn't hear me correctly. I said Don't. Move. At. All."

With visible effort, Jack stilled. But he couldn't resist adding, "But you like it when I..."

"Don't talk, either!" Ianto snapped, then huffed and shook his head, as if Jack were a recalcitrant schoolboy who was going to require a great deal of effort to teach the simplest things. "Although technically that falls under "moving", and I shouldn't have to tell you that. Really, Jack."

_'No fair,'_ Jack thought biting down an retort even as he attempted to repress a visible shudder of desire. Ianto knew damn well what effect his Welsh accent had on Jack's libido, and Jack suspected he was exaggerating it now for effect. If so, it was working. Ianto's subtle elongation of the vowels, combined with a masterful tone that brooked no disagreement, was _doing _things to him that no mere words should be allowed to do.

Jack made a little noise of protest, pleading eyes fixed on Ianto's implacable face.

"Don't," Ianto warned, squeezing Jack's knee again. Jack stared into unyielding blue eyes and, finding no quarter there, dropped his gaze.

Ianto reached out to cup Jack's chin with his other hand, and traced Jack's jawline with his thumb. Jack swallowed hard and then hoped that wouldn't count against him, but really, he couldn't help that, could he? Surely Ianto wouldn't be so strict as to...

Ianto leaned in and brushed his lips against Jack's, and Jack stopped thinking altogether. It seemed like a spark jumped between them, something physical akin to static electricity but far more powerful. Had Ianto felt it? If so, he gave no sign; merely pulled back a few inches and watched Jack impassively. Jack took a a deep breath and let it out with a sigh, hoping the young man would have mercy on him and return.

Ianto did, but the kiss was feather-light; teasing. Jack needed more, much more. He moaned.

_"Ianto..."_

It was little more than a whisper, but it was enough. Ianto shot to his feet and moved away.

"I'm sorry, Jack," Ianto said, picking up the plastic bag he had set on Jack's desk. "But there will be consequences for disobeying me."

Jack gaped at him.

Ianto took out a roll of duct tape, and held it up for Jack to see. Jack sucked in his breath as he took in the dull silver roll. _"What the hell?_"

Ianto plucked a pair of scissors from the holder on Jack's desk and cut about six inches of tape from the roll.

"This ought do nicely," he said with satisfaction, returning the scissors to their home and placing the tape on the desk before turning back to Jack.

"Look up," Ianto ordered. Puzzled, Jack did as he was told, and Ianto affixed the length of tape firmly over Jack's mouth.

Jack stared at Ianto in something akin to shock as even his stomach flipped over in excitement.

Ianto pressed his fingers against the tape, securing it in place.

"There. That ought to keep you quiet. Pity about your mouth, though," he murmured. "Now I'll have to find something else to amuse myself with."

Jack had a few suggestions, really good ones in his estimation, but they remained trapped behind the tape.

Ianto knelt down in front of Jack again, and touched Jack's taped mouth affectionately. Then he leaned in and ran his tongue along Jack's jawline and down the side of his neck. Jack gasped, and it got caught in his throat.

Ianto reached the pulse point and planted a kiss there, then began to lap at the area with his tongue.

Jack gripped the arms of his chair tight and struggled not to squirm. Ianto was _right in front of him, licking him for godssakes, _and the urge to grab his hand, or stroke the exposed skin at the back of his neck, or to slide his hand into Ianto's trousers, was damn near overpowering.

Ianto pulled a small amount of tender skin into his mouth, grazing it with his teeth as he did so, and began to suck, causing shivers to shoot down Jack's spine, into his groin and all the way down the back of both legs. Jack closed his eyes, savoring the sensation. That such a small, innocuous part of his body could be so responsive never failed to amaze and delight him.

Ianto bit down, and the pain was sudden, sharp and sweet. Jack flinched, then cringed inwardly, wondering if he'd blown it. Ianto was apparently willing to overlook it however, for no chiding was forthcoming. He merely let go and lapped soothingly at the reddening skin.

Then he bit down harder, and Jack's hand flexed, then closed around Ianto's wrist.

Immediately Ianto was a meter away, scowling down in disapproval.

"You are really are incorrigible, aren't you, Jack?"

Jack stared at his traitorous hand in consternation.

Ianto shook his head and with the same deliberate care as before, lifted up the roll and cut two more strips of tape, longer than the first.

"I hate to have to do this. But you leave me no choice."

He knelt down in front of Jack and picked up Jack's left wrist. He pressed a kiss to the back of it in an strangely old-fashioned gesture, then laid it down and proceeded to wrap tape around both wrist and chair arm until the wrist was tightly bound. He did the same with the the right wrist, sat back on his heels to examine his work, and gave a satisfied nod.

"Now where were we?"

It's a good thing the question was rhetorical, because Jack wasn't sure he'd have an answer even if he'd been allowed to voice one. He thought he might be hyperventilating; if he'd been able to breathe through his mouth, he probably would have passed out already. As it was he was taking in so much oxygen, suffused with the heady combination of the new cologne and the musky undertone of Ianto himself, that he felt dizzy. He was used to turning all of his considerable energy outward-channeling it into flirting and fighting and other pastimes that started with "f"-not sitting still. He watched Ianto through eyes gone a bit wild and struggled to get his breathing under control.

Ianto, meanwhile, clinically considered Jack's bound body as if he had all the time in the world.

Finally, he seemed to have reached a decision, for he hooked his index finger into Jack's left bracer and slid it down. It brushed the bicep and came to rest in the crook of his elbow, leaving a trial of goosebumps in its wake that were not visible under Jack's sleeve but intensely experienced nonetheless. Ianto did the same with the right bracer, and then turned his attention to the buttons of Jack's shirt.

Jack's heart was hammering so hard he was sure Ianto could feel it rumbling through the cotton like a seismic event.

With practiced ease, Ianto undid the buttons he could reach, and then, with a few deft tugs, pulled the rest of Jack's shirt free of his waistband and make short work of the rest. Then opened the shirt wide, exposing Jack's chest.

Ianto regarded Jack's white t-shirt with a moue of annoyance and Jack thought he might have to reconsider his habit of wearing so many layers, and soon. He was sure that he'd never resented the persistently pluvial Welsh weather and the resulting chill it left in his bones more than he had in this moment.

Ianto pressed both hands to Jack's chest, the tips of his middle fingers brushing Jack's nipples, and Jack mentally cursed the weather some more even as his body soaked up the heat radiating from Ianto' hands. Ianto rubbed circles into Jack's chest, traveling slowly downward, and Jack marveled at how being unable to speak or move his arms seemed to intensify every stroke even as he reveled in each firm but gentle touch that left trails of tingles in its wake.

Ianto's fingertips dipped into the waistband of Jack's trousers, rubbing as they went. This was promising. But then...

_'Bastard,' _Jack thought, as Ianto's hands stopped just shy somewhere really interesting and traveled upwards again. Jack was so wrapped up in the combination of heady sensation and prolonged frustration that when Ianto pinched his left nipple, his foot kicked straight out.

He immediately returned it to its place on the floor, but the damage was done. Ianto was away and standing with his back to him. Jack stared after him pleading eyes, but Ianto busied himself with the scissors again and paid him no mind.

He turned around with two more long pieces of tape in his hand and a ruthless glint in his eye, and Jack's heart sank.

He had been pushing it, he knew; deliberately pushing things to see what would happen. He'd been pushing it when he'd first picked up the screwdriver despite Ianto's orders, and definitely pushing it when he didn't put it down when he'd heard Ianto's telltale measured footsteps approaching. He'd been pushing it when he had cheekily tried to distract Ianto with suggestive offers; hell, he'd been pushing it when he had breathed Ianto's name after the kiss. He was less sure about when he'd grabbed Ianto's hand, as Ianto had doing his best to make Jack lose control so it wasn't his fault if it had _worked_, was it? But if pressed he'd probably take responsibility for that too. He had to admit he had been aware of what he was about to do before he did it then, too.

But hadn't been deliberately pushing it this time. He really hadn't. It had just... happened.

Not that Ianto knew, or cared, about such distinctions. He approached with the tape and Jack felt a flicker of anxiety at the thought of being completely restrained, and mute to boot. Helplessness, in any variety, was something he preferred to avoid. He was no stranger to bondage games, of course, but he had usually entered into them with more of an inkling of what was going to happen than this.

He had had no idea that Ianto had this... dominant side, or just how far he was capable of taking things. They weren't following any of the rules here, although "rules" was a rather strong word-perhaps "customs" was better. At any rate, there had been no discussion beforehand of what either of them wanted out of this, and, just as importantly, what they _didn't _want out of this.

Wait, that wasn't entirely true. Ianto had made it quite clear what he wanted out of this: Jack's obedience. Which so far Jack hadn't done much to deliver. Instead he had been testing Ianto, asking for it. Now he was getting it.

Gazing at the tape, Jack didn't feel _frightened_, exactly-but after having been held captive innumerable times by beings far less pretty and compassionate as Ianto, with dire results, a certain caution had become part of his reflexes. He was... wary. Curious and incredibly turned on, true, but wary.

Ianto held the tape aloft, arched both brows, and cocked his head to the side.

Jack stared for several long moments until his fevered brain caught up with what he was seeing.

_'Damn! He's good.'_

Somehow Ianto had picked up on Jack's unease and was tacitly asking for permission to continue. Jack felt a surge of affection for Ianto, and the unease receded. Jack closed his eyes, held them shut for a beat, and then opened them-the closest he could come to a nod without actually moving his head. At this moment, he thought he would have agreed to anything.

Perhaps he had.

Ianto knelt and in no time at all, had rolled up both trouser legs and attached each of Jack's ankles to a chair leg. He pressed hard, securing the tape all around, and then motioned for Jack to try to move his legs. To neither of their surprise, the bonds held tight.

The realization that he was completely and securely bound had a paradoxical effect on Jack: he relaxed. He stopped straining at the tape, slumped a little in the chair, and looked up at Ianto with relaxed features and perfect trust in his eyes.

Ianto looked back at him, implacable as ever.

"Jack, Jack, Jack, whatever am I going to do with you?"

Jack was more open to whatever Ianto had in mind now (not that he had much choice) but it had never, in his experience, hurt to make suggestions.

_'You could start by unzipping my fly,'_ Jack thought, with what would have been a jaunty smile had he been able to crack one. To his dismay, Ianto jumped to his feet.

_'Not again! What, is telepathy forbidden too?'_ Jack thought desperately.

Ianto stepped away. "What did you say?" he asked, voice sharp.

Jack stared, dazed, at Ianto's retreating form and wondered if mind-reading was another hitherto undiscovered talent that this remarkable young man possessed (and reflected that if so, he was going to have to be a lot more careful about securing his mental shields going forward) until he realized that Ianto was speaking into his comm link.


	2. Part Two

Ianto had ignored Owen's first two attempts to get Jack on the comm but the third one was so loud and so profanity-laced that it was painful to both the ear and Ianto's sensibilities that he realized he was going to have to deal with this, now. "Ignore him until he goes away" had never been a strategy that worked on Owen-only a direct approach would do.

And just when things were getting so _interesting_. Ianto forced himself to move away from Jack.

"What did you say?"

Irritation at the interruption made his voice sharper than he intended. Maintaining his unflappable facade while he methodically took Jack apart was putting his self-control to the test, and he was afraid it could start fraying around the edges at any time. He'd have to be very careful with Owen. He didn't give a damn what the insufferable medic thought, but Jack was a meter away and Ianto could _feel _him soaking up everything he did; doubtless analyzing it with that clever, improvising brain of his. It wouldn't do to show any weakness.

"You heard me, you miserable tosser," Owen was growling into Ianto's ear. "I know Jack's there. Get him on the comm. It's important."

Ianto went into secretary mode. "What is this regarding, please?"

"None of your goddamned business! Stop fucking around and get Jack."

"As I told you before, we're not to be disturbed unless it's a dire emergency. Jack's orders, not mine." That last bit wasn't exactly true, but it was a white lie, the kind personal assistants told all the time, and besides, Jack wasn't in any position to correct him at the moment.

"It just so happens it IS a dire emergency, and it's for Jack's ears only. Put him on or I'm coming in there!"

Ianto thought fast. Owen was perfectly capable of breaking down the door to carry out his threat, and while it was tempting to let him do so just to see the look on his face, it probably wouldn't be good for Team morale for the Second-in-Command to see their leader taped to a chair by his PA. Besides, Ianto wouldn't do that to Jack. (Although knowing Jack, he'd not only survive the humiliation unscathed, but also find a way to turn it to his advantage, but that wasn't the point.)

Then there was the off-chance that there really _was _an emergency. Although he had a strong feeling that Owen was just messing with them, he was too much of dedicated employee to tell him to bugger off and let the chips fall where they may. No, Owen would have to be allowed to talk to Jack.

But how? Ianto didn't want Jack to have his earpiece back until he was damn well good and ready to give it to him. Ianto had made an educated guess-based on the profound sense of disconnection that he felt whenever he went without his own comm link for any length of time-that that being cut off from the Team, unable to bark orders or get information on demand, would make the Captain feel vulnerable in a way that even binding him to his chair couldn't accomplish. Ianto wasn't ready to relinquish that delicious control just yet, emergency or no emergency.

He didn't want to give Jack his mobile back for the same reason. It was a ridiculous how they'd all become dependent on them, so much so that not having one's mobile handy at all times felt like a limb was missing, but they had.

Ianto made his decision.

"If it's for Jack's ears only, the comm isn't really the place to discuss it, is it? Call him on his extension."

"What?"

"The phone? On his desk? We all have one, even though they're largely neglected because everyone prefers to send emails these days. Jack's extension number is '69', in case you've forgotten."

It was, too. Jack had set it himself.

Owen hung up with a muttered curse.

Ianto pressed the button in his ear that muted his mike and returned to his captive.

"Listen up, Jack. You're going to do exactly what I say, and only what I say, or you can't even begin to imagine how you'll regret it. Do you understand?"

Jack blinked, which Ianto took for assent.

"The phone is going to ring. It will be Owen. I'm going to remove the tape from your mouth and hold the phone up to your ear. You are going to speak to him about his "emergency" and only about his "emergency". When it's resolved, you are gong to say "goodbye, Owen," and I'm going to hang up the phone. Got that?"

Jack blinked again.

"Good," Ianto said, just as the phone rang.

Ianto ripped the tape off Jack's mouth. Jack winced, then licked his lips cautiously, as if checking for damage. Or perhaps to soothe the sting that he had to be experiencing. His intent probably wasn't to drive Ianto mad with desire, yet that was the effect it had. That, and the little bit of white adhesive sticking to the side of Jack's mouth, right beside the slightly upturned corner. Ianto fought down an urge to lick the spot himself, and instead picked up the receiver and shoved it against Jack's ear.

Jack cleared his throat. "Harkness," he answered, managing to sound both brusk and bored. Ianto was impressed.

"Hello, Owen." Jack continued. "What's the emergency?"

Ianto thought he detected a bit of a strain in Jack's voice; perhaps it was a half-step higher than usual, but he doubted that Owen would notice. For the most part, Jack sounded like a disinterested boss taking a report because he had to; no more, no less. Ianto was even more impressed.

"I see. Your special project in the greenhouse. Of course I remember. How's that coming?"

Jack caught Ianto's gaze and rolled his eyes, and Ianto almost burst out laughing. With Herculean effort, he managed to limit himself to a slight upturn of his lips instead.

"Good, good. Of course you have my permission to continue. I'll tell Ianto that I'll sign off on whatever new supplies you need. Yep, just go ahead and order them. Goodbye, Owen."

Ianto placed the receiver back in the base. Their eyes met again, Jack's sparkling with mischief, and Ianto knew if he didn't break the moment immediately they would both start cracking up. Ianto's stern facade would be in tatters, and all of Jack's hard-won obedience would be lost. Ianto was enjoying having Jack at his mercy far too much to let it all go just yet, so he schooled his features into a blank expression, closed his eyes, and didn't open them until he knew they would give away as little away as his face.

The mischief faded from Jack's eyes and Ianto knew he had succeeded. Ianto almost felt sorry for him.

Jack had, after all, done well on the phone call. Such progress should be acknowledged.

Ianto brushed Jack's fringe off his forehead with gentle fingertips.

"Very good, Jack. You stuck to the script and did exactly as I ordered you to. That deserves a reward."

Jack closed his eyes, savoring the touch. Ianto stroked his hair and felt something in his heart clench, painful and sweet all at once.

After a few moments, Ianto removed his hand and and went over to the coffee table. When he returned with a cup of cooling coffee and a few biscuits, Jack's eyes were still closed. He hadn't, Ianto noted, said a word since the call.

"Look at me, Jack."

Jack glanced sidelong at him, looking up through his lashes in a beguiling way that had melted far harder hearts than Ianto's. But Ianto had fallen victim to that very look far too many times to let it get to him now.

"I interrupted your tea earlier, didn't I," he inquired calmly. "You must be hungry. Would you like a biscuit?"

Jack nodded, and it was the barest of moments. He _was _learning.

Ianto broke off a piece of Jammie Dodger and held it in front of Jack's face. Jack opened his mouth, and Ianto fed it to him. Jack chewed, swallowed, and waited, staring straight ahead. Ianto gave him another piece, which he consumed in the same manner. Then a final one, and the biscuit was gone.

Ianto picked up the mug. "The coffee no longer hot, I'm afraid. Would you like some anyway?"

Another tiny nod, and Ianto held the mug while Jack sipped from it. If the Captain had any complaints about the temperature, he didn't voice them.

Ianto watched Jack's throat work and felt his hands tremble. How that man could look so sexy merely swallowing was beyond him. He took a deep breath and let it out as he broke another biscuit into pieces.

Two more biscuits and an empty mug of coffee later, Ianto deemed that Jack's tea was over. He returned to the tray, set the mug on it, then picked the whole thing up.

"Time these went back to the kitchen. See you in a bit."

He paused to let the words sink in. Jack's eyes went comically wide and his mouth dropped open a little.

_'Gotcha,' _Ianto thought. Jack hadn't been expecting him to leave again.

"However, if you're very good while I'm gone, I'll give you even better reward when I get back. Would you like that?"

Jack nodded, a bit of a wild look in his eyes. No, he definitely hadn't been expecting this. For that matter, Ianto hadn't either. He was playing this by ear, guided by an instinct he must have always had but never had occasion to use before.

Now instinct was giving him a new idea. He'd planned to think about the promised "reward" while he was out of the room, but he realized that there was no need. He knew exactly what he wanted to do. And how he was going to make Jack earn it.

"Very well."

Ianto set the tray down, picked up the scissors, and crouched down before Jack again. He held up the scissors and looked Jack in the eyes. Jack stared back, eyes raking Ianto's face for any sort of clue as to his fate.

"You'll have to do something for me while I'm gone, then, Jack. I have to make sure that you really deserve this reward. It's a very good reward, you see. I know you'd love it. But I can't give it out to just anyone. Only someone who is capable of following my orders."

Jack swallowed hard, and Ianto did his best to ignore that bobbing Adam's apple. He let his voice drop lower.

"I have something in mind that you weren't able to manage before. But I think you might be sufficiently motivated to do so now. Will you do it?

Jack was nodding before Ianto finished the question.

_'This would probably be a good time to ask for a raise, too_,' Ianto thought, then suppressed the idea and the giggle that threatened to accompany it.

"All right, then," Ianto continued, absently impressed with how dispassionate his own voice sounded. "Here's what's going to happen. I'm going to free your right hand and give you the screwdriver. You are going to take it. Then I'm going to position your hand and you're going to hold the screwdriver in that position the whole time I'm gone. Do you understand?"

Another nod.

Ianto opened the scissors and, taking care not to cut Jack's skin in the process, cut through the tape on Jack's left forearm.

Ianto ripped the tape from Jack's arm, taking more than a few dark hairs with it.

_'That had to sting,' _Ianto reflected, as he tossed the scrap in the bin under Jack's desk. Jack, however, had not made a sound, shook his arm, or done anything else to indicate he was in pain. He merely returned his arm to its place and looked at Ianto expectantly.

Ianto offered Jack the screwdriver, tip down.

"Take it."

Jack did. Ianto positioned Jack's arm so that his elbow rested on the chair arm and the screwdriver hovered over his lap, the tip of it centimeters away from the obvious tenting in Jack's trousers. Ianto suppressed a grin. It had a certain symmetry that pleased him.

He stood and regarded his work, intending to fix the image in his memory so that he'd know if Jack moved but as he did so he had another idea.

Ianto dug in his pocket, fished out a five-pence coin, and balanced it on the base of the screwdriver. It would take effort to keep it there; not a lot, but enough to keep Jack's attention focused the whole time he was gone.

"There. That'll keep you honest," Ianto declared. "Not that I doubt your intentions, Jack. But I know how easily you get distracted." He leaned over and kissed Jack on the cheek, then scooped up the tea tray and left without looking back.

* * *

At least they weren't all staring at him this time.

Ianto made his way around the water tower and through the maze of workstations, where his colleagues were to all appearances, hard at work, each peering at a computer screen.

Owen, Ianto observed as he neared the medic's area, was either running a program that analyzed the amount of alien particulates in the air or playing looked surprisingly similar from a distance, but Ianto had his suspicious as to which it was.

His suspicions were confirmed when he paused at Owen's workstation and watched him get killed halfway through level three.

"Pity," Ianto observed. "And you were doing so well, too."

"Dammit! Look what you made me do!"

Ianto snorted. "Me? If you're that easily distracted, remind me not to stand anywhere near you the next time we have weapons practice."

Owen muttered something inappropriate for the workplace and started a new game.

Ianto rested the tray against his hip and watched.

"So what happened to your dire emergency," he ventured after a few moments of watching colored blocks descend.

"Sorted," Owen replied without taking his eyes off the screen.

"So quickly? How convenient. I know that Jack's efficient, but really, that's got to be some sort of record."

"Bullocks!" Owen swore, as his screen filled with blocks and the game ended. He spun in his chair to face Ianto.

"Are you implying something by that, Ianto? Because I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

The edge in Owen's voice suggested that not only did he know exactly what Ianto meant, he was _thisclose_ to getting into a punch-up about it. Ianto suspected that had more to do with the failure of his little ruse than a botched video game, but then again, with Owen it was hard to tell. He was angry so much of the time it was hard to keep track of why.

"Sure you don't. And Gwen's not watching me out of the corner of her eye either, looking for clues as to what Jack and I were doing all that time."

"I wasn't..." Gwen uttered, startled.

"Did you find any hairs out of place or any buttons I've missed?" Because I think I got them all, but you never know. You know how distracted one can be... after."

Gwen flushed and looked away.

"I'll take that as a "no"," Ianto pressed on, aware that he sounded peevish and feeling guilty even as he said it. But it was too late to take it back, so he turned and headed for the kitchen.

"You're a fuckin' bastard, you know that, right?" Owen called.

"Pot, meet Kettle," Ianto replied over his shoulder, determined that Owen not get the last word. Great, now he was resorting to childish insults as well. It was times like these that almost made him long for the early days when they had all but ignored him.

'_Well, no, not really', _he reflected as he did the washing up, because he'd been miserable then, for all sorts of reasons, isolation being but one of them (the rest he wasn't going to think about).

To be honest, he enjoyed the camaraderie he had with his teammates now, and embraced being a fully-fledged member of Torchwood. The way they all came together when faced with a crisis, each using their own talents to complement each other, made for a level of belonging that he'd never before experienced. It was the downtime that was a problem. Sooner or later someone inevitably ended up playing a prank that went horribly wrong, starting a fight or an ill-advised affair, or _taping their boss to his desk chair._

Ianto laughed out loud at the absurdity of it all, and wondered how Jack was faring in his absence.

* * *

There was no clock in Jack's office, a fact that Ianto had remarked on more than once. The conscientious assistant was too discreet to voice his disapproval of this fact directly, but his repeated offers to help Jack pick out a suitable timepiece had conveyed his feeling quite well. The third time he had approached the topic, wielding a half-dozen office supply catalogs, Jack had pointed out that there were digital clocks in his computer and mobile and if he needed to know the time that badly he'd consult them. Ianto had pressed his lips into a thin line, nodded once, and dropped the subject. Jack had considered it a moral victory.

Now, he was regretting his flippant attitude towards chronology. He had no idea how long he'd been waiting but it seemed ages. Without the aid of his devices, there was simply no way to measure the passing of time in his office. He had a wall made of glass and two windows, but they all faced the interior of the Hub, and their blinds were down. At some point late in the evening the lights would dim automatically, but he sincerely hoped he wouldn't still be sitting here when they did.

His arm was getting stiff from being in one position for so long and his elbow ached where it pressed into the plastic arm of chair. These were minor complaints, but with nothing else to do, they became a big part of Jack's world. Especially because focusing on them kept him from focusing on the complaints from other parts of his body. He ached with need, physically and emotionally. He had never felt Ianto's absence so keenly.

There was a noise in the hall. Jack looked up, and the screwdriver wavered ever-so-slightly. Jack returned his gaze to it, righting it before the coin could slip.

_'Oh no you don't,' _he thought. That had been close.

Someone opened his door. Jack's heart leaped, but he kept his eyes fixed on the coin, willing it to stay in place a little longer. No way was he going screw up now, right at the moment of discovery; not after balancing it perfectly for so long.

Ianto came in, closed and locked the door, and approached the desk without a word. He stopped a couple meters away. All Jack could make out without lifting his gaze were two polished black shoes and one dark gray trouser hem, neatly cuffed.

Ianto seemed to be studying him, and Jack felt his cheeks redden. No doubt he made quite a sight. He didn't care. He didn't care about anything at this point but doing what Ianto wanted. He'd sit here holding the bloody screwdriver all night if that pleased him-so long as Ianto didn't leave again. Jack decided that he hadn't liked that part very much.

"Very good, Jack," Ianto said, his voice warm with approval. Jack started at the sudden noise after all the silence and the screwdriver swayed dangerously. The coin, miraculously, stayed put.

"I knew you could do it if you put your mind to it." Ianto moved forward and stroked Jack's cheek.

Jack felt a surge of pride that was somewhat absurd given the circumstances. After all, he'd risked life and limb to save the world from alien invasion countless times and felt far less afterward. Nevertheless, it made the whole ordeal, every second he'd sat sweating it out alone, worthwhile.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Ianto asked, and the tenderness in his voice very nearly made Jack weep. He shook his head "no".

Ianto plucked the coin from the edge of the screwdriver and dropped it into his jacket pocket.

"I think I'll keep this. For luck."

He took the screwdriver from Jack's hand and placed it on the desk in front of Jack. "This, you can have back. You've earned it."

While Jack flexed his hand to work out the cramps, Ianto moved between chair and desk and leaned against the edge, and cocking his head to the side. Watching.

"You're gorgeous like this, you know. All trussed up and nowhere to go. All _mine_."

A shiver went down Jack's spine and he felt himself nodding again. He'd done so much nodding he felt like one of those Drinking Bird desk toys, but it was working for him so he was not about to stop now.

'_Yes, yes, all yours.' _It didn't occur to Jack to say this out loud. He'd not been granted permission, after all.

Ianto smiled. He unbuttoned his jacket, then wriggled onto the desk so that he was seated comfortably. Jack gaped at the view that his slightly spread legs afforded. That Ianto was as aroused as he was was now obvious, and it was a glorious sight indeed.

Ianto hooked the leg of Jack's chair with his foot and pulled Jack over to him, the rollers sliding over the floor with a squeak until Jack was sat right in front of him. Ianto picked up Jack's free hand and placed it over his groin. Jack felt smooth wool and the warmth of Ianto underneath and stifled a groan.

"You like that, don't you Jack?"

Jack nodded so vigorously it's a wonder he didn't get whiplash.

Ianto chuckled, and pressed himself against Jack's hand. His visibly sucked in his breath at the contact but when he continued speaking his voice was as calm as ever.

"I thought you might. Unzip me, then."

Jack hastened to comply, fumbling with the zipper, and when did he get so clumsy, anyway? Divesting people smoothly of their clothes was one of his trademarks, after all.

"You know," Ianto continued conversationally, exactly like Jack hadn't just succeeded in lowering the zipper at last and was resting his fingers against the silk of his boxers, "If you hadn't been able to follow orders, I would have taped your hand back down and you'd be watching me do this myself from way over there. With nothing to do _but_ watch."

It was a cruel thought indeed.

"But you were very, very good, so I'll let you help me as your reward. You've only got one hand free, and that's a pity, but you've done more with less. I'm sure you'll be brilliant. You want to be brilliant for me, don't you, Jack?"

Jack did, very much so.

"Then do it."

Ianto gasped audibly when Jack slid his fingers into the fly of his boxers and skin touched skin, indicating that he might not be quite the disinterested party he was pretending to be.

Jack needed no further motivation, or instructions. He palmed Ianto's length, working it free of the fabric, and rubbed his thumb over the tip, savoring the dampness there. He'd use that to smooth his way. He started with light strokes of his fingertips, and was rewarded when Ianto spread his legs further apart, placed his hands behind him on the desk, and leaned back.

"Go on."

Ianto's voice now held a tremor that he no longer bothered to hide. Jack began his work in earnest.

It didn't take long. Ianto had been flatteringly aroused, and Jack was very good at what he did. _"Even with one hand tied behind my back. Or... whatever," _he thought, allowing himself a brief moment of smug satisfaction.

Mostly, however, he felt grateful, so very grateful for being allowed to touch this beautiful boy who was perched on his desk, head thrown back, quietly but unabashedly coming into his hand. Grateful, and amazed.

_'How did I get so lucky?' _

He had no idea.

* * *

Ianto allowed himself one long, low groan at the moment of climax, but other than that he had been silent, thinking it suited the persona he had adopted. He could suppress his erotic exclamations as well as he could suppress all his others-sometimes too well. It had been Lisa who had taught him that a little noise in bed was not only not a bad thing but actually a turn-on, and Jack had certainly seemed to agree. Jack himself made enough noise for a zoo.

Ianto had not controlled his physical responses, however, at one point grinding himself shamelessly against Jack's palm while Jack stroked all the right spots. Damn if that man didn't know exactly how to touch him; Ianto didn't bother to try to hold back. He'd been wanting this for hours now, ever since he'd first approached Jack in his office and come under the influence of those dastardly pheromones. (If he was honest with himself it had really been since he'd walked into the Hub at 07:00 sharp and found Jack tinkering with the hinges of the shower room door, but that made him feel so _easy_.)

Ianto shuddered and stilled, eyes closed to better enjoy the pleasure that spreading through his body, suffusing it with warmth and languor.

When he thought he was capable of it, he pushed himself upright and grinned lazily at Jack. When he got answering grin in return, he grasped Jack's wrist and squeezed affectionately.

"Well done," he said, and if it came out more a croak than the clinical observation he was trying for, well, so be it.

He glanced down and quirked a brow. "You _can _let go now."

Jack did, and Ianto adjusted his clothing, putting it and himself to rights.

Keeping his suit on while they played was something that he had never done before, even though he knew that Jack fantasized about it, for Jack had told him so, numerous times and in graphic detail.

In the beginning of their affair, the mere thought of being intimate while so attired was disturbing. Ianto wasn't a prude by any means, but he'd found himself slapping Jack's hand away the first time he'd gone to touch Ianto in an intimate way through his work trousers, to both of their surprise. As badly as he'd wanted that touch, the idea of doing it _that way _had made him panic a little. And no, it wasn't OCD run amok, despite what Owen seemed to think about Ianto's penchant for pristine suits.

They had been his way of keeping Torchwood Three separate from the rest of his life, a distinction had been all-important, once. But now his old life was gone and his private life had merged so completely with TW3 that it hardly seemed to matter anymore.

And the dry-cleaners could take care of the rest.

Ianto pushed Jack's chair back and knelt in front of it. "Your hand's all sticky," he observed. "We should probably do something about that."

Jack regarded his hand, then Ianto, and raised his eyebrows in a question. Ianto nodded. Jack lifted his hand to his mouth and proceeded to lick his fingers, one by one.

Ianto had known what he was going to do, but the sight still made him weak. It was so utterly filthy and so devastatingly erotic at the same time.

When Jack was done, he held his now clean hand up for inspection, and Ianto nodded his approval.

"Very nice. I didn't even have to give you an order that time. You're learning to anticipate what I want. See, it's not that hard to be good, is it?"

Jack shook his head.

"I'm very proud of you, Jack."

Jack beamed.

Ianto pushed up Jack's right trouser leg and traced the top edge of the tape with his fingertips. It was still firmly affixed to Jack's ankle and the lower part of his shin. He rubbed the side of Jack's calf, then began to knead it with strong fingers. Jack always carried tension in his calves, little knots that formed around the edges of the well-defined muscles. Ianto slid his fingers behind the knee and pushed and pressed at a knot there until he felt it break apart.

Jack sighed in appreciation. Ianto moved on to another, feeling a sense of satisfaction when it too released under his ministrations. The last time he had tried to do this for his Captain he had been cut short because Jack, with a wicked grin, had removed his hand after about two minutes and put it on a more intimate place. Ianto hadn't minded much, figuring he was going to get there eventually anyway, but he was good at the other kind of massage too. Now Jack had no choice but to sit back and enjoy it.

Jack seemed to be doing just that, if the easy smile and closed eyes were any indication. For once, he seemed to savor what he was given and wasn't trying to rush on to the next thing.

It was a beautiful sight. Jack was, literally and figuratively, in Ianto's hands.

Ianto finished the right calf and moved on to the left, where several more knots waited. He took his time, savoring the way heat and energy flowed from Jack's calves and blended with his own, until he felt he was holding a ball of power in his hands.

When he was finished, he turned his attentions to the tape itself.

"This is going to sting when I rip it off. A lot."

He touched it, and it felt cool and unyielding. He frowned.

"I don't want to hurt you more than necessary, especially because you're being so _patient. _I have an idea, though, that will make it better. Do you trust me?"

Jack nodded, but it wasn't necessary. His serene expression said it all.

Ianto started to unbuckle Jack's belt, and the man's sudden, sharp exhale made Ianto smile.

Ianto worked the belt open and unbuttoned Jack's fly. He was wondering, not for the first time, why Jack preferred period-accurate trousers when zippers were so much more convenient, when he  
realized that Jack was going commando.

_'Oh, Duw!'_

Blood rushed to Ianto's cheeks and to his groin, even as some distant, logical part of his mind noted that having one less layer of fabric to negotiate would make his task easier.

Ianto leaned down and ran his tongue along the side Jack's length and Jack's response rang with relief and sheer, utter need. Ianto lifted his head and smiled like the cat that got the cream.

"You have my permission to speak now, Jack. I rather like it when you say my name."

Ianto wrapped his hand around the base of Jack's cock and applied his mouth in earnest, and Jack wound up shouting not only Ianto's name, but also a slew of dirty words in English, Welsh, and several languages that Ianto didn't recognize. He suspected they were alien.

When Jack's breathing was ragged and his legs were trembling in a way that indicated he was close, Ianto pulled his mouth away. Jack fairly howled in frustration, and Ianto put a finger to Jack's lips.

"Shhh. Patience, remember?" He turned his concentration to Jack's left ankle, reached down, and fiddled with the tape there. He started unwrapping it, leaving Jack to stare down at the top of his head in disbelief.

With a sudden, sharp moment, Ianto ripped the tape off, and Jack's whimper turned into a squawk. It was cut off, however, when Ianto promptly returned his attention to Jack's member, which he teased with tongue and fingers until he was sure that the stinging on Jack's leg melted into something more pleasurable.

He worked the tape off the other leg with one hand while increasing his attentions to Jack's cock. When he ripped tape free of skin, Jack's cry was one of delight as the combination of the sharp bite of pain and Ianto's relentless ravishing pushed him over the edge.

"Oh, fuck! Iantooo!"

Jack came in a hot rush, shouting at such a volume that made Ianto glad that the office was soundproofed.

He waited until Jack had stilled and slumped in his seat before sliding his mouth free and wiping it with the back of his hand, throwing Jack an impish look as he did so. Jack looked decidedly dazed as Ianto moved forward and unwrapped the final piece of tape around his wrist. He didn't react when Ianto pulled it free. He barely seemed to know where he was.

Ianto leaned in and kissed him on the mouth, and Jack parted his lips to allow Ianto's tongue in. He let Ianto do most of the work at first, but then seemed to return to himself and kissed back with more fervor.

Ianto pulled back and searched Jack's face. There was sweat on his brow, his hair was tousled, and the inside of his lower lip was red where he had been biting it while he had concentrated on the coin earlier, but the habitual furrows across his forehead were nowhere in evidence.

_'He looks younger, somehow. Carefree. And so utterly beautiful,' _Ianto thought.

Aloud he said, "You O.K.?"

"Yeah." The brief, throaty reply conveyed volumes of feeling, and was quite a change from Jack's usual swagger.

"Come on then, let's get you up."

He helped Jack out of the chair, hooking an arm under his shoulders to keep him upright while he regained his balance.

"Ow, ow, ow!" Jack said.

"Ow?"

"Pins and needles," Jack explained, standing on one leg to shake the other one out, then switching, leaning on Ianto as he did so. "Hurts almost as much as that bloody tape did coming off."

Ianto chuckled. "That sounds serious. As is the fact that that "bloody tape" left all sorts of sticky residue on you. I think a hot shower is order."

He inclined his head to the hatch leading to Jack's lair under the stairs, where a shower stall awaited. It was just big enough for two, if you squeezed.

"Come to think of it, I'm a bit sticky myself."

Jack smiled and detached himself from Ianto's arm. "Go and get the water hot. I'll be right there."

"Are you sure you're OK? It's a long drop if you fall off the ladder. Wouldn't want you to injure yourself."

"Ianto, I've been climbing down that thing since before you were... for a long time, alright? Don't worry about me."

"Fine. I won't." Ianto smiled back.

Ianto opened the hatch, positioned himself on the ladder, and started his descent. Jack went around turning off all the lights, hoping to head off anyone else who thought to disturb them. He spotted the screwdriver, resting on the desk where Ianto had left it.

Jack picked it up and placed it reverentially in a drawer.

_'Sure got my money's worth out of that thing,"_ he thought. _"Or rather, Torchwood's money's worth.'_

He just might have to retire it to his safe. It hardly seemed fitting to use it for such mundane tasks as fixing things anymore.

Then he spied the roll of gaffer tape.

_'Now THAT might come in handy later.'_

He slid it onto his arm like a piece of oversized costume jewelry.

_'Or sooner.'_

He grinned to himself, and followed Ianto down the hatch.


End file.
